


The Wedding of the Century

by winterwonderland



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3311996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwonderland/pseuds/winterwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Saxa tries to organize a bachelor party, Nasir’s mother wants grandchildren, Castus is confused by someone’s identical twin and Agron and Crixus spend some quality time together (and maybe there’s a wedding happening too). A sequel to Happily Ever After.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Polterabend

**Author's Note:**

> Contains sexual humo(u)r and awkward situations.

 

Saxa was sitting on the coffee table, tapping her pen against the notepad in her hand. “You have too many straight friends,” she sighed and then started tapping her pen against her lips instead.

“No, I have too many friends who want to throw me a bachelor party,” Agron groaned in return.

“As if. You’ve scared everyone else away, I’m the only one left.”

“Exactly.”

Saxa glared at him and then went back to frowning at her notes. “Okay, I’m sure I can at least persuade Spartacus and–”

“No,” Agron interrupted and then leaned forward and snatched the pad from her and threw it somewhere behind the couch, “You’re not going to persuade anyone, and for the last fucking time, you’re not throwing me _anything_. That shit’s for twenty-something straight guys, a group of which I am not a member. And I definitely don’t have any inclination to spend the night in some club where everyone and their mother is ten years younger than me.”

“More like fifteen,” Naevia quipped.

“You wanna start comparing birthdays with me, do you?” Agron asked, side-eyeing the woman sitting next to him. “I’ve seen your passport, remember?”

Before Naevia had a chance to reply, though, Saxa cut in, kicking him in the shin.

“Anyway,” she continued, dragging out the word, “It’s not like I’m planning on tying you to a lamppost in your underwear or something, just suggesting we do a little bar hopping. I mean, come on, you’re making it sound like a night out is the worst thing that could ever happen to you.” She shook her head sadly. “Scheiß drauf. God, you Germans have no sense of fun.”

“You’re German, Saxa.”

“Whatever. And I’m from the south _,_ anyway. It’s only you northerners who always have that stick up your ass.”

Agron opened his mouth, but Naevia shut him up quickly with her hand. To be fair, it was probably for the best.

“Well, Duro’s taking me out on Sunday for a surprise stag do he definitely hasn’t been planning for the last month, and you’re always welcome to tag along,” Nasir said from the kitchen where he had retreated around the time Saxa had first opened her notebook. “I’m guessing we’ll start at BBB and work our way down from there.”

“Already in,” Saxa answered breezily and then turned back to Agron again, “But honestly, why’s _he_ having one and you’re not? And with your brother? Come on, man. You can’t let him have all the fun around here.”

“He’s having one because he’s young and foolish and easily persuadable with the promise of free drinks and half-naked men,” Agron answered and then swiftly dodged a medium size citrus fruit flying towards his head from the kitchen. “And who decided a wedding has to mean the end to all fun forever and ever anyway?” He shook his head. “I mean why even get married if it’s so horrible? And straight people never heard of open relationships or what?”

Nasir snorted. “Honey, the closest thing to an open relationship you’ve ever had is a threeway with Ben and Jerry. You’re not exactly wild _._ ”

“I’ve been plenty wild,” Agron huffed and threw the tangerine right back at him. “Honey.”

“When exactly?” Nasir shot back while catching the fruit in flight right in front of his face without batting an eye, “I’m pretty sure you wore a suit and tie to kindergarten.”

Agron was almost going to reply with a remark about the other man’s catching abilities but bit his tongue at the last moment and crossed his arms on another huff instead.

“Look, schnuckiputzi, if you’re still interested in this whole getting-married-to-me-business, I’d suggest you zip it right about now _._ ”

“Nah, I’m the only one who’ll have you, so how about you zip it before I change my mind. Kuschelbär…”

Nasir winked and Agron could hear Naevia groaning something akin to “oh my god” by his ear. So he smirked in return, rubbing his chin.

“Teddy bear? Really? And I shaved today and everything.”

A beat of silence followed and then the coffee table squeaked as Saxa shifted her weight and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“You know what,” she said, putting down the pen and unlocking the phone, “Why don’t I just do this the old fashioned way and get you to a strip club one of these days and then that’s that sorted. Okay?”

“You can do whatever you want, but you’re not going to drag me into a–”

“Ah, go-go boys _and_ drag _._ Yes, you’re right, that’s a better idea. Banana Café it is.” She smiled, looking pleased with herself. “Danke schön, my dear. It’s even within walking distance.”

“Saxa, no–”

“What’s this I hear about strippers?”

Agron whipped his head to the side and then watched in confusion as Gannicus walked into the living room. And not through the front door but from the little corridor at the back.

“Why are you here?” Agron asked, “Better yet, _how_ are you here?”

“You gave me the key last time you went on holiday,” the other man answered matter-of-factly and slumped down on the couch next to Agron and reached for the chips on the coffee table. “And your net is faster than mine. Also, you have food in the fridge.”

“Please, at least tell me you weren’t watching porn,” Agron sighed and made a mental note of changing the locks in the immediate future. And this time they wouldn’t be giving _anyone_ the key – brothers, friends and perpetually hung-over-and-or-drunk neighbors included.

“No porn,” Gannicus answered, “Research.”

Not that the two terms were necessarily mutually exclusive.

“So how’s that book coming along then?” Nasir asked. He grabbed an extra beer from the fridge and then finally walked over after deciding three against one was a little too unfair, even for Agron.

“It’s coming. Along.” The other man shrugged and then took a swig of the offered beer. “But anyway, what about these strippers?”

“ _Male_ strippers,” Saxa said, looking up from her phone, “So I doubt you’ll be interested, unless you’ve been broadening your menu when no one was looking.”

Gannicus gave a disappointed sigh and lifted his feet on the coffee table. So Agron shoved them back down on the floor and Gannicus sighed again.

“Have to say, I just don’t get the appeal of all that,” he said scratching his chin, “At least with breasts you get two. Some big, some small.” He made a helpful if yet completely unnecessary gesture with his hands to illustrate the point. “There’s varietythere, you know. But I mean a dick is just... a dick.” He looked around him on the sofa. “And you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all, right guys?”

Agron grabbed a handful of chips from the bag and shoved them all in his mouth in one. Nasir, who had been just about to sit in the armchair in the corner got back to his feet again and took a shortcut back to the kitchen. The women exchanged a look and an eye-roll.

“Well anyway, speaking of,” Gannicus continued as unperturbed as always, turning to Agron, “Can I ask you a weird personal question? For the book, you see. I could do with a different perspective on this.”

But before Agron had the chance to tell him in no uncertain terms “fuck no”, Naevia was groaning again and then quickly got up from the sofa.

“And that’s our cue, come on,” she said grabbing her jacket in one hand and Saxa’s arm in the other. “I think it’s clear Agron doesn’t want what you’re offering, and I don’t want to miss our reservation. It’s been ages since I’ve had the chance to eat out.” She kissed Nasir’s cheek as they walked past him. “We’ll see you boys later. Have fun with the dick talk.”

“Toodles, chaps.” Saxa waved her fingers behind her back as she followed Naevia out the doorway.

The front door closed with a click, and Agron tried desperately to search for Nasir for backup but the man was suddenly nowhere to be found. Unlike Gannicus.

“So here’s the first question. Now, it’s pretty simple, but feel free to add as much detail as you want...”

 

* * *

 

The continuous bass beat was starting to get numbing and the lights were giving him a headache, but even worse than that, Nasir just realized that he had actually spent the last fifteen minutes cataloging all the eighty-seven different ways the poster on the back wall was historically inaccurate. And there were half-naked men on that poster. Hell, there were half-naked men on the dance floor right in front of the poster.

Maybe Agron was right and they were _both_ getting too old for this.

He sighed and leaned a little heavier against the railing, when he felt someone poke him in the shoulder.

“So you’re sure you don’t want another one?” Castus asked, pointing at Nasir’s empty glass with his own as he sidled up next to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

The other man sighed and then looked at him like Nasir had just failed his A-levels or his driving test or worse. “Man, someone’s in a fun mood tonight,” he said and rolled his eyes, “I actually canceled on that Cirque du Soleil guy just to be here, remember? So a little more effort would be nice.”

Nasir groaned and went to rest his head against the man’s shoulder, only to realize halfway that he wasn’t actually standing next to a six-foot human wall this time but next to someone closer to his own height. But he was feeling a bit crabby and too stubborn to correct himself now, so he just ended up leaning there anyway with an awkward crick in his neck.

“Look, maybe I’m not cut out for this anymore. I just want to go home, have a tea and a cuddle and watch some stupid movie with my boyfriend. Is that really so bad?”

“Shush, they’ll come and take away your gay card for that, you know.” Castus chuckled and then pushed Nasir gently off of him and gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his cheek. “Chin up. I’ll bring you back something nice from the bar, okay? But not the bartender, though. He’s coming home with me, he’s too good for your grumpy ass.”

Castus’ back disappeared into the crowd and Nasir took out his phone and then frowned. Still no answer. Now, Agron _had_ said he was perfectly happy being left alone for the night, but maybe Nasir should have known better than to ever trust him on his word.

Bloody brilliant. As if tonight hadn’t been a roaring success enough so far, now he probably had one giant, moping German at home waiting to be appeased as well.

He was just about to type the man another text when Duro appeared next to him and snatched the phone from his hand. How he could move around so stealthily with his chair in a club full of people and stairs, Nasir would never know.

“If the dumbass wants to be a big old grouch then let him be one,” Duro said, raising his voice to be heard over the loud music, “You don’t have to fucking babysit him. Das verstehst du doch, oder? I mean, you get that, right?”

“I’m not baby–”

“Whatever. Come on, we’ve already been here an hour and I still haven’t gotten you even close to any compromising situations. And now we’re wasting time arguing when we could be doing body shots at the bar.”

Nasir sighed.

“Fine,” he said and held out his hand, “but at least give me back my mobile.”

“No.” Duro shoved the phone deep into the pocket of his jeans and grabbed Nasir’s arm. “Because someone in this family is gonna have some fun tonight, dammit, even if it kills me.” He held onto Nasir even tighter and then waved to someone through the crowd. “Hey, Pietros! I need a little help over here.”

 

* * *

 

The keys jingled when they hit the bowl on the table by the door. Then Nasir spent a good thirty seconds searching blindly for the light switch, before finally giving up and following the flickering blue light from the TV all the way around the kitchen corner and into the living room.

He smiled to himself and then tiptoed carefully over to the sofa.

“You weren’t waiting up for me, were you?”

Agron swatted Nasir’s hand away and then cracked open one eye. “No,” he huffed and then opened the other eye before rubbing his face and sitting up with a groan, “The game went overtime.”

“Till three a.m.?”

“Obviously,” Agron said and rolled his eyes. “Or, you know, maybe I fell asleep at some point during the post-game stuff.”

“Sounds like a wild night. So who won?”

“Arsenal, you’d be happy to know. It was actually a–” Agron stopped and grabbed both sides of Nasir’s face to hold him at a distance. “Tequila? Really? Babe, you’re not nineteen anymore.”

Nasir scoffed and climbed on the sofa and on Agron, ignoring the hands attempting to push him away. “Still younger than you, though.”

Agron kept half-heartedly fighting the snuggle assault for a little longer, before he finally gave up – the act and the fight – and let the other man push him back against the couch again.

“Well, did you at least have fun?” he asked and wrapped his arms tighter around the man. “Tonight was your last chance, remember? Only horrible, boring dreariness to follow from now on and sex only on your birthdays. Until death do us part and all that.”

“Mm-hmm,” Nasir murmured somewhere between Agron’s collarbone and the hollow of his throat. “Don’t you worry, I had a good time, yes I did. Lots of sexy, barely-dressed guys left out there in the world, just so you know.”

Nasir could feel Agron go tense under him at the words, and for a second he wondered if maybe he had gone a little too far with the last line, especially considering that Agron _had_ spent the whole night in here alone, and most likely sulking. Not to mention, he could be a tad insecure about these things at the best of times. But to Nasir’s great surprise, when he finally risked lifting his head and looking up, the other man only replied with a small smile and a quick kiss on Nasir’s hairline.

“Tell me about it,” Agron said and then finally pushed himself up on the sofa, taking Nasir with him. “Come on, you. Time to take your drunk ass to bed, you’ve got that lecture tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah, I’m _giving_ that lecture,” Nasir muttered as he found his feet as well – and his balance, eventually. And then he paused again when the light from the TV hit something metallic peeking out from under the couch. He bent down and gingerly picked the thing up from the floor.

“What’s this?” he asked, dangling the handcuffs from his finger. “You’re moonlighting as a cop now? I didn’t know things were that bad at the office.”

Agron knew there was a good chance he was looking like a deer in the headlights right about then, so he tried to look away. But Nasir was surprisingly quick even on his unsteady feet, and by then he had already grabbed Agron’s face, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Agron?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Nasir raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

So, finally, Agron had no choice but to sit back down with a sigh and explain everything. It only took him about thirty seconds, though the silence that followed seemed to last at least twice as long.

“A stripper?” Nasir asked finally, once his alcohol-muddled brain had had enough time to process the information thrown its way.

“Um. Yeah.”

“Here? Tonight? When you were at home _alone_? Why?”

“Naja, ich glaube dass er–”

“Don’t try and change the language or we’ll do this in ancient Aramaic next. You believe he was what?”

“A friend of Saxa’s,” Agron answered simply. But then, it was pretty much all the explanation needed in most circumstances. “Though for a guy who now has someone’s number and Grindr handle written on his arm with a permanent marker, this jealousy comes off as a little hypocritical, have to say.”

“I’m not jealous,” Nasir scoffed, willfully ignoring the way his tone maybe told another story, “I’m just a bit miffed that while I wasted most of the night feeling bad about leaving you alone, you were here, happy as Larry, with your own little go-go boy giving you a lap dance and god knows what else.”

Yup, definitely not jealous. No siree, Bob. Not him.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly lit–” Agron cleared his throat. “I mean, there was no dancing _._ That would’ve been too weird, anyway. So we had some coffee and watched the second half instead.”

“Coffee and football with a stripper?” Nasir asked incredulously.

“Why not. He was waiting for his ride and there was time to kill.” Agron shrugged. “Nice enough guy. In med school. Brazilian.”

Nasir’s other eyebrow was now trying its best to escape towards his hairline, so Agron quickly added, “As in _from_ _Brazil,_ some small town right outside Rio. Marica I think it was. Actually, it sounded like he was–”

Resigned, Nasir cut him off and sat heavily back on the couch next to him and rubbed his eyes. “So just a coffee, huh?”

He sighed. The shots and the early hour were finally starting to take their toll, while the mental image of Agron playing doctor with his not-exactly-little, scantily-clad new best friend was having a far more confusing effect on him.

Finally he gave a tired chuckle and leaned against the other man, waiting patiently until Agron wrapped a hesitant arm around him again and pulled him closer.

“Yeah, I guess you are that kind of guy, aren’t you?”

“What kind of guy?”

“Someone who’d ask a stripper in for an actual coffee or pay a call guy just to talk to him. Thatkind.”

“Babe.” Agron poked him in the side. “I’ve never had to pay for sex or company. I can get both for free, thank you very much. Just look at me.”

They both decided to ignore the fact that that hadn’t really been a refutation of Nasir’s point at all, and then Nasir was laughing again.

“My my, someone thinks highly of himself.”

“Hey! I pulled you didn’t I? With very little effort, I may add.”

“It took you a month to even get up the courage to ask me for a coffee. I wouldn’t go bragging about it if I were you.”

“Well you did say yes.”

“Out of pity,” Nasir answered, smiling innocently, “You were so desperate someone had to put you out of your misery. And I just happened to pick the short straw that day.”

Well, speaking of straws, that was the last one as far as Agron was concerned, and so he decided to forego his dislike of Tequila for the night and then finally managed to wipe the smirk off the other man’s lips. And maybe a little more thoroughly than would have been absolutely necessary.

“Pity, huh? And that’s why you stayed the night? And the next night? And that’s why you’re still here now? Wow, you must be the most compassionate person in the world.”

Nasir – who at this point found himself both a little breathless and flat on his back on the sofa – was about to retort something about Agron having cable and a cute brother, when another shiny thing caught his eye, wedged between the sofa cushions. And Agron was apparently seeing the same thing, because the man was suddenly scrambling back up on his knees as quickly as he could. So Nasir grabbed him by the front of his shirt before he had the chance to escape completely and sat up himself.

“And what part of the ‘coffee’ did this thong play again?”

Agron scratched the back of his head. Then the top of his head. “Well...” Finally, he ended up scratching his three-day stubble. “He wanted to change clothes before going home, and he wasn’t exactly shy, so there was no need for, you know, modesty.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Of course not.”

“Look, it’s not like I was actively _watching_ him or anything. I mean, it wasn’t like some–”

“One-on-one strip show?”

Nasir grabbed hold of shirt again, keeping him in place, and Agron swallowed. This could go one of two ways, both of which would most likely end with him spending the rest of the night on this sofa. The only question was, was he going to end up here alone or not.

“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” Nasir said, sitting back down on his heels, “Time to balance the scales a bit.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh, _I’m_ not going to do anything.”

“Nasir?”

But Nasir ignored him and his panicked face and looked him up and down a few times, sighing theatrically. “Well, you’re not exactly a twenty-something Brazilian, but I guess you’re better than nothing.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polterabend = bachelor(ette) party   
> Danke schön = thank you  
> Scheiß drauf = fuck this  
> Schnuckiputzi = sweetie-pie/honey/etc.


	2. The In-Laws

Agron shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then back again just to keep the blood flowing. He stifled a yawn. Traffic was a nightmare at this hour and getting a parking space was even worse, so he had left the office in good time – too good – which then meant he had been stuck here at the floor of the Gare du Nord main hall waiting for the last thirty minutes. It was better than sitting in traffic in Sura’s old Peugeot with little to no legroom, but only a fraction. And Agron really hated crowded places. He was starting to think that maybe he should have just scratched the chivalry and taken the metro instead.

The little jingle they played at the beginning of every announcement was getting stuck in his head now, and he sighed and then looked at his watch for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes. It wasn’t helping.

And then, finally, the voice over the PA system helpfully announced the arrival of the 2:47 Eurostar from London at platform three.

About fucking time.

The train docked and people started spilling out, and Agron craned his neck to see above the crowd. After a long minute of scanning the throng of people around him, he spotted familiar faces amidst the chaos on the platform and, to his great surprise, found himself smiling when he started squeezing his way towards them.

He understood Nasir’s apprehensions about family visits; his mother especially could be a little overbearing at times. But to someone who barely even remembered his own mother, all the fussing and the fawning and the cooking and the looking after was, honestly, not that bad. It was quite nice, actually.

In moderation and at long enough intervals.

“Agron! There you are!”

And the next thing he knew he was being smothered in hugs and kisses and Chanel no 5.

“And where’s Nasir hiding?” Mrs. Faris asked, looking around her, an eyebrow arching on her forehead.

“Still at university, he had a meeting at three. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

The woman scoffed at the last line and patted his cheek with a smile. “The boy works too much,” she added, “What’s that? His third paper this semester?”

“You’re one to speak, Layla.”

She scoffed again and then reached out her immaculately manicured hand and grabbed Agron’s chin.

“Well, speaking of working too much... You look like you’ve lost some weight, darling.” She tutted out loud. “You’re getting too thin. Doesn’t he look too thin, Minnah?”

“He looks fine, Mum.” The girl rolled her eyes and gave Agron a conspiratorial smile as she stepped around her mother and threw her arms around Agron’s neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Hey you.”

“Hey back,” Agron said and returned the hug that for a moment lifted her feet off the ground. Not that it was such a huge undertaking for him; the Faris family wasn’t exactly the tallest family around.

“So what horrible did you do to deserve family duty then?” she asked. “Left a red sock in the laundry or something?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Agron said laughing, when she finally let go and stepped back.

And then it was her brother’s turn.

“Karim–” Agron started but had to hit pause again when he took a better look at the other man.

And... Oh boy.

It seemed that in the intervening months in L.A. he had both gotten rid of his beard and grown out his hair. And the glimpse of a ponytail was suddenly making Agron have cringe-inducing flashbacks to the first time he had gone over the Channel to meet Nasir’s family. He could only hope he would be able to refrain from kissing the wrong brother this time around.

“So you decided to let your hair grow back then, after all?”

The other man chuckled as they hugged and then let Agron go with a last pat on the back and gave him a dangerously familiar looking smile. “Yeah, it was time for a change,” he said, “But how about you? Still sticking with this whole getting-married-business? I would’ve thought you’d wised up by now.”

“In it for the long-haul, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, well.” Karim widened his grin. “Too bad he got to you first, huh?”

Agron cleared his throat. Then, before Karim had a chance to say anything more, his mother’s hand appeared out of thin air and slapped him on the back of his head.

“You! Stop flirting with your poor brother-in-law and do something useful and get those bags for me. And you,” she pointed her finger at Agron, “Watch yourself. There will be none of that nonsense at my wedding. No mix-ups and no drama. This is not EastEnders, all right?”

“Wait, _your_ wedding?” But Agron was left protesting to no one, because at that point the woman was already halfway down the platform with her children in tow.

There was a pat on his arm and he looked over to his side. The older man standing next to him was nodding his head slowly and smiling in a way that seemed to imply his wife wasn’t the only one who had been waiting long for this day. But not because of traditions or wedding vows or the promise of grandchildren. No. Agron knew that look; in fact, the Germans had a word for that look: schadenfreude.

“Right-o,” Mr. Faris said cheerily and passed the second of the two suitcases left on the ground to Agron. “Welcome to the family, son.”

 

* * *

 

Agron stepped over the threshold but then stayed leaning against the doorframe as he took in the view.

“Any luck with the search?” he asked.

The other man halfway under the bed scoffed something unintelligible as an answer.

“So how long do you think you’ll be? Dinner’s almost ready.”

This time, Nasir’s answer was loud enough to hear. “Oh, I don’t know. How about five more years.”

Smiling to himself, Agron finally walked over, bent down and lifted the bedspread, peering under the bedframe. “And since when have we kept our photographsunder the bed again, babe? Did we travel back to the nineties when I wasn’t looking or did your laptop slip down there or what?”

Nasir sneezed and then slowly scrambled back to his feet, dusting himself.

“You really need to hoover more often under there. Just an FYI.”

“I’ll make a note of that,” Agron said as he kept wiping dust off the man’s shoulders. Then he smiled. As gently as he could. “Look, it’s not _that_ bad out there, you know.”

“Easy for you to say. It’s not like she’s been accosting you about reproducing all night.”

The pout on Nasir’s face was equal parts adorable and amusing, but Agron fought to keep his smile in check and wrapped his arms around the other man to pull him into a hug. “Well, to be fair, I always assumed we would be doing that together if we ever did.”

“I know, I know. Sorry.” Nasir groaned and buried his face a little further into the front of Agron’s t-shirt. “I guess what I mean is, you could decide to leave tomorrow, but I’d still be left here being responsible for giving her grandchildren. And you’d be scot free.”

“But I’m not going to leave tomorrow. Or any day.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nasir breathed out.

“Because I don’t want to get out scot free. I’m going to be responsible for those imaginary grandchildren right there with you.”

“I know.”

“As long as they’re imaginary, at least.”

“I know.” Nasir sighed and then tilted his face up, digging his chin in Agron’s chest. “But what are we going to do about Mum though? It’s only the first day and she’s already driving me bonkers with this. By this rate I won’t survive past Friday.”

Agron put on another reassuring smile as he picked a dust bunny off Nasir’s hair and then tucked the loose strands behind his ear. “We could always tell her that we have been trying for years, but it seems we’re just not all that fertile.”

Nasir huffed out a little laugh but then quickly shook his head again. “Yes. Because that would go down well? I mean, I know they’re generally supportive and everything, but I’m thinking sex jokes are still a step too far.” He lifted both his eyebrows at the other man. “Let’s not push it, okay? Our dads would have a collective meltdown that no amount of World Cup talk will save.”

Agron winced at the thought. “Yeah, okay, I hear you.”

“And anyway, Mum would probably just take that as her cue to start writing up adoption papers.”

“Probably.”

“Unless your brother has already done that for her,” Nasir added. “What’s up with him anyway? I thought Duro was supposed to be on _our_ side in the whole never-having-kids-deal and now it sounds like he’s this close to buying us a minivan as a wedding gift. Meike and Noriko have _five_ kids, shouldn’t that be more than enough uncle-ing for the both of you?”

“I guess Duro’s decided that the two-hour train ride to Liege is too long for his uncle-ing needs after all,” Agron said, “Or he’s just doing it to get on my nerves.” Which, to be fair, was probably the more plausible option, but thankfully the past 26 years had taught him to just ignore most if not all of what his brother said. It was an acquired skill that Nasir clearly was still lacking. “But speaking of brothers,” he continued, “I have to say Karim’s little makeover is freaking me out a bit more than I was expecting. You could’ve at least warned me.”

Nasir snorted. “Afraid you’ll end up snogging him in the kitchen again?”

And this time it was Agron’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Okay. A, that happened years ago, and B, it wasn’t a _snog._ ” He poked his finger in the man’s chest. “And thanks for reminding me. Again. Not like that was the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me or anything.”

“Which is exactly why I keep reminding you,” Nasir answered with a deliberate smile. “And it _so_ was a snog. Admit it, you just can’t get enough of this DNA, can you? Two’s better than one, am I right?”

He was fully expecting an eye roll or a scowl in response or even a walk-out on a huff, so the full-on smirk came as a surprise.

“You know, now you’ve just reminded me of a film I once saw,” Agron said.

Silence fell and then kept stretching for a long minute.

“Too far?”

“I’d say so.”

So Agron gave his scowling fiancé an appeasing smile and smoothed the lines on his forehead with his thumb. “Sorry, babe. Maybe we should just get back out there then. I have a feeling my jokes are only going to get worse the longer we stay cooped up in here.”

“So you think it’s too late to make a break for it?” Nasir glanced hopefully towards the windows on the side wall. “I mean, people elope all the time, don’t they? We could just take our passports and be halfway to the airport before they even realize we’re gone.”

Agron followed his line of sight and for one glorious minute imagined them lying under a palm tree on some unspecified island in the Caribbean for the foreseeable future, until the conscientious part of him finally took over and he sighed.

“Come on, we are supposed to be two professional, grown men and we should be able handle one little family dinner between us. No slinking away out the fire-escape now.”

Nasir made a noncommittal noise and then let his head fall back against Agron’s chest with a groan.

“Also, my wallet’s in the other room,” Agron added.

“You just have to suck the fun out of everything, don’t you?”

“Funny, that’s the first time I’ve heard you complain about my sucking skills,” Agron said. “Usually you don’t seem to get enough of me sucking things out of you.”

And just like that Nasir found himself smiling again. Like always, Agron’s innuendos were as obvious as they were terrible, but this time he did have a point. “Well, maybe once all the family’s back in the hotel, you can remind me how good you–”

His fingers stopped their travel down Agron’s chest when he saw something moving in the corner of his eye.

Agron Sr. cleared his throat and was now actively staring at the wall behind their heads.

“I was told to inform you that the food’s getting cold. We can look at the pictures later.”

“Okay,” Nasir said.

“Okay,” the older man answered.

Agron scratched the back of his neck. “Okay.”

He watched his father turn stiffly from the doorway and walk back into the corridor, and he hung his head and sighed.

“Well, this is not going to be awkward at all.”

Nasir saw him eyeing the fire-escape behind the window, so he grabbed the man’s arm before he had a chance to even try.

“Two professional, grown men, remember?”


	3. Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never, maybe. :)

 

“Okay, that’s it. Drop and give me twenty.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You got to be kidding me, Em.” Agron tried to stare her down, but his sister wasn’t budging.

“You know the rules, little brother,” she replied, gently rocking the child on her hip as she flashed Agron a familiar smile, “Ten for every curse. You’re lucky I stopped you when I did.”

“Milo’s a baby. He doesn’t even understand—”

“Do you really want to start arguing about this with a pregnant woman who has spent all morning in a minivan full of hyperactive children just to get to your wedding on time?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you, Agron? Do you?”

Agron looked at her, then at the patch of dirty asphalt in front of him. He didn’t bother looking at Nasir; he knew what the response there would be.

“Fine.”

So he gave them twenty push-ups. Well, okay, he might have made it thirty. He had a feeling he might need the extra credit sometime soon.

“Happy now?” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans as he got up to his feet again, trying not to puff up too much when he caught Nasir’s stare.

“Yes, thank you,” Meike answered, licking her thumb and wiping away something from his cheek. “So now... All ready for your big day, boys?”

Agron scowled at her and slapped away her hand. “We’ll just swing by the town hall, sign some papers and then have dinner here. Nothing big about it.”

“Right, of course,” Meike said and smiled in that way of hers that was always able to make Agron doubly uneasy. Had he been six, that smile would have meant that he’d probably find a frog inside his shirt in the next five minutes, but at thirty...

“What—”

And then the front door to the restaurant opened and Saxa’s head popped out. “Hey, Em! Ich könnte wirklich ein bisschen Hilfe mit den Blumen gebrauchen. So, anytime you’re ready...”

“Ja, ich komme, ich komme,” Meike shouted back. She lifted the baby off her hip and passed him on to Agron. “Gotta go, guys. Be a dear Nasir and bring those apples in with you, okay?”

Nasir, who so far had happily taken the backseat on this particular family reunion, nodded absentmindedly as he watched her disappear through the door after Saxa. Then he turned to Agron with a frown. “I know my German is a little rusty, but did I just hear Saxa say something about needing help with the flowers?”

Agron sighed. “Yes.”

“And that’s not just some innuendo I’m not getting?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.”

“I didn’t know we were having flowers.”

“We weren’t.” Agron sighed again. Deeper. As if big sisters weren’t bad enough, now he had to deal with flowers too? “Look, I’m starting to have a bad feeling about this,” he said, eyes still fixed on the restaurant door, “Do we really have to go in, couldn’t we just run away now? It’s not too late yet, is it?”

Nasir stepped around him and bent over to pick up the apple crate from the car. “And what about him?”

Agron looked at the baby in his arms, who at the moment was doing his best to strangle him, pulling at the collar of Agron’s T-shirt with both hands like a man on a mission. “He’s tiny. I’m sure he travels well.”

“And you don’t think your sister will mind if we just take him and go?”

“She has like twelve of these,” Agron said. He peeled the tiny hands from his neck, only to have them find his cheeks instead. “I’m sure she won’t miss one.”

His nephew then started slapping the sides of Agron’s face with gusto and Agron closed his eyes and hung his head, which somehow just earned him an enthusiastic, high-pitched squeal right next to his ear.

Then he could hear a familiar chuckle behind him and something sharp poking his back.

“Come on, time to face the music,” Nasir said, nudging Agron again with the edge of the apple crate, “And open the door for me, will you. This thing’s heavier than it looks.”

Resigned, Agron did just that and let the other man walk in before him only to run straight into his back the moment they had crossed the threshold.

“Ah, there you are, boys,” Nasir’s mother said walking over in a flurry of silk, “So what do you think? I know it’s not exactly Versailles, but all in all not too shabby, right?”

But Nasir took his time to answer, being busy staring at the scene in front of them.

Half of the restaurant floor was already cleared out and one long row of tables had been set out in the middle of the room. Duro and Crixus were in the middle of installing something resembling a sound system and speakers in the corner, with an assortment of kids running circles around them doing their best to trip over the wires. There were white tablecloths and mismatched china everywhere. Heart-shaped bunting hanging from the ceiling beams. Enough candles to be a fire hazard. And, for whatever reason, one solitary balloon that said “Happy Birthday” in Spanish.

And then there were the flowers.

“Isn’t it a bit...much?” Nasir asked finally, but his mother dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“It’s your wedding, darling. It’s supposed to be ‘a bit much.’ The occasion calls for it, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. It’s a nice thing being young and in love, you’re allowed to celebrate it for goodness sake. And that goes for both of you.” She smiled and pinched his chin. “Oh and I’ve been told you can take the apples straight to the kitchen.”

So Nasir left, giving Agron one last slightly bewildered look over his shoulder, and Agron went to follow him, but was stopped before his first step.

“Let me take him off of you first,” she said, holding out her hands for the baby now settled in the crook of Agron’s arm, “Might as well enjoy it now, since this will probably be the closest I’ll ever get to a grandchild of my own, right?”

“You have two other children,” Agron pointed out, doing his best to keep his eyes from rolling too noticeably, “I’m fairly sure one of them will produce an heir eventually.” Not to mention, his own sister wouldn’t be out of babies anytime soon if she needed the practice.

“And Minnah’s only eighteen while Karim so far seems all too happy to be single.”

“Layla...”

“I’m not getting any younger, you know,” she added with a theatrical sigh, “So forgive me if I dare to hang my hopes on the one child who might actually be settling down in my lifetime.”

“Layla...”

“Fine, fine, fine... Not another word.” She smiled and hitched the baby higher on her hip. “Just think about it. That’s all I ask.”

“I thought you weren’t going to say another word. I’m pretty sure those were words.”

She made a gesture of zipping her lips close. And in her lap little Milo seemed to do his best to mimic her by waving his hand in front of his face wildly. And giggling.

Agron left them both with a shake of his head, turning away quickly, before the damn woman would catch him smiling and draw the wrong conclusion.

“I saw that!”

Goddammit.

  


* * *

  


Nasir pushed the door open with his back and walked in, putting the crate down on the nearest table with a groan. God, if this morning had taught him anything so far, it was that he clearly needed to tag along with Agron to the gym more often.

Inside the kitchen, Castus, who seemed to be unpacking what looked dangerously like another box of tulips, looked up when he heard the apple crate hit the table and flashed Nasir a smile.

“Thank god,” he said, putting the three flowers in his hand back down with the others, “I was starting to think I’d be stuck here doing this forever. But now that you’re here...” He stepped closer. “I’m pretty sure if we get out the back door right now, your mom won’t ever notice. And since the ceremony’s not until afternoon, we’ve still got plenty of time.”

Nasir frowned. “I... uh... Time to do what?”

Castus grinned wider and gave him an exaggerated shrug. “Oh, I dunno... things.”

“Things?”

“Yeah, and speaking of, I think I still owe you this from last night.”

And then, before Nasir had a chance to react, he felt hands cradling his face and found himself firmly wedged between Castus and the refrigerator door. And more specifically, Castus’ mouth and the refrigerator door.

A few seconds later, somewhere behind them, someone cleared his throat—loudly—and then said, “Don’t want to alarm you, Cas, but you might be kissing the wrong brother. Just an FYI.”

Nasir could feel Castus go tense against him at the voice, and then his eyes shot open. They stared at each other for a long moment, with Castus’ eyes growing just a little wider with every second, and then the man slowly pulled away and even more slowly finally looked over his shoulder.

Karim and Agron were standing just inside the kitchen doorway in front of the still gently swinging door. Karim was clearly fighting a smile. Agron... not so much.

“Whoops, sorry, Nasir. My bad.” Castus gave a nervous laugh and smoothed down the front of Nasir’s T-shirt before taking a step back. “Honest mistake, yeah? And mistakes happen. Right guys?”

“Yes. Mistakes happen.” Nasir shot Agron a challenging look across the floor. “Right, Agron?”

“Whatever,” he muttered and snatched one of the carrier bags from Karim’s hand and then strode over to the island in the middle and dropped the bag on the countertop with a loud thud. “Though I don’t get why you have to look so damn pleased about it.”

Castus shrugged. “I’m a good kisser. He can’t help himself.”

Agron glared at him over his shoulder and then watched with satisfaction when the man ducked for cover behind Nasir’s back before going back to his unpacking. “And nobody here finds it the least bit odd that Castus is now apparently hooking up with Nasir’s _identical_ twin of all people?” he asked, “That sounds like a case study straight out of one of your mom’s papers to be honest.”

Karim walked over and dumped the rest of the bags next to Agron’s half-empty one and swatted his arm. “Hey, will the guy _with_ the boyfriend please shut up now,” he said with a chuckle, “I’m at my brother’s wedding without as much as a date, so forgive me for not worrying too much about psychology. If Nasir’s scraps are all I’m getting, then so be it.”

This time it was Castus’ turn to scowl. Though the effect was slightly dampened by the fact that he was still doing it mostly from behind Nasir’s shoulder. “I’m no scraps, man, so watch it. One-hundred percent prime beef over here, okay. You’d be lucky to get with this.” He poked Nasir in the side. “Go on, tell him.”

Nasir rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he’s a stud alright.”

“Stud, huh?” Karim looked like he was fighting another smile. “Of course. My bad.”

As he spoke, he kept stacking the food off the carrier bags, in tandem with Agron who was just happy to keep his hands busy and away from slipping anywhere near Castus’ throat. He wasn’t an expert on wedding etiquette by any means, but strangling your fiancé’s best friend the morning of the wedding was probably still considered a social faux-pas in most circles.

“And anyway, it’s not like your little threesome needs me to make things any more dysfunctional around here, now do you?” Karim went on, “Sometimes one has to wonder how you all ever even made it past the beginning in the first place.”

“Karim...” Nasir thought his voice was a clear enough warning, as were the holes his eyes were drilling in the back of the man’s head, but apparently his brother wasn’t paying attention. So much for that twin-telepathy then.

“I mean just think about it, Agron,” Karim continued breezily, oblivious to Nasir staring daggers at him behind his back. “If Mr. Prime Beef over there hadn’t stood Nasir up that one night, then he wouldn’t have said yes to you just to get even, and your first date with my brother would’ve ended up being Castus’ first date with him. And then who knows what would’ve happened. Maybe those two would be getting married today, and you and I hooking up. Funny how life is, huh?”

He chuckled, clearly amused with himself, and then finally turned around, but the smile quickly died on his lips when he took in the faces around him. And soon the room was so quiet you could’ve even heard the proverbial pin drop.

Castus grabbed a colander hanging from the ceiling rack and started examining it studiously, while Nasir kept arranging the bottles of dressings on the counter in and out of alphabetical order. Agron, on the other hand, was standing perfectly still, one hand gripping the edge of the butcher’s block hard enough that his knuckles were white.

Karim cleared his throat. “So... I’m guessing you didn’t know about that particular detail.”

“No, I didn’t,” Agron told him just as he finally caught Nasir’s eye across the floor.

“And now you’re freaking out on us, aren’t you?”

“Oh no, absolutely not.”

“Good. Because there really is no reason to overreact.”

“Definitely not.”

“Exactly.”

“No reason at all.”

Karim sighed. “But you are going to anyway, aren’t you?”

  


* * *

  


The door opened and closed somewhere behind his back and Agron sighed.

“Nasir, can you just let me have a moment to—”

“I’m not Nasir.”

Agron looked over his shoulder and swore under his breath. “Great. Even better.”

“So...” Castus began and stepped out into the back alley, coming to a stop next to Agron. “You think you’ll be sulking out here for much longer then?”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Riiight.” Castus shoved his hands in his pockets and kept rocking back on his heels for a moment, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. “Look, you can’t honestly be mad at him for the fact that I stood him up one time years ago—that makes no sense. Even you can’t be that big of a jerk. Seriously.”

“I’m not mad at Nasir.”

“Then you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at anyone.” Okay, that part might have been a lie.

“Then what the hell is the problem?”

Agron started picking at his nails. Then shrugged. Fuck if he knew.

“Why are you out here, Castus?”

“Bought a new shirt for this wedding of yours,” the man answered with a wry smile, “Expensive. Wanted to make sure it won’t be going to waste just because your dumb ass decides to have a panic attack over ancient history.” He kicked a piece of rubble with the toe of his trainer, sending it flying between the two dumpsters on the other side of the alley. “Your turn.”

They stood in silence for another long, awkward moment.

“Yeah, so maybe I’m an idiot,” Agron said finally, “But you and Nasir...” He didn’t really know how to finish that sentence, so he let his voice trail off and laughed awkwardly instead. “Look I’ve gotten used to the flirting. I’ve gotten used to the idea that one day you two will inevitably have a drunken snog at some New Year’s party. You’re friends, it’s fine, whatever.” He half laughed, half groaned again. “But now I find out that in fact you were the first choice all along, and the only reason I’m in the picture at all is because you were stupid enough to bail out back then.” Agron realized he wasn’t even mad anymore, not even jealous—just stung. “And okay, so I’m the consolation prize, fine. I guess I can live with that. But why the fuck did it have to be _you_? Out of all the guys in the world... You know what I mean?”

Agron looked over to his side and watched Castus take in a deep breath and peer up somewhere in the sky.

“Damn, you’re going to make me say it now, aren’t you?”

“Make you say what?”

“That obviously it's not about who was the first choice but who was the right choice,” Castus replied. “And that if anyone should be pissed about all this, it should be me. All I did was make one teeny-tiny scheduling error and then boom! You swoop in and five minutes later Nasir's already all swooning and shit, while I'm standing there, going 'what the hell just happened?'” He grinned. “So yeah, actually... Fuck you, man.”

Agron cleared his throat. “Um...”

“Well it was a long time ago. Forgive and forget, that's my motto.” Castus started bouncing on the balls of his feet again. “And to be honest, I much rather just be friends with benefits anyway.The way I see it, that’s a lot less hassle and just the right amount of mother-in-laws and tasteful flower arrangements—by which I mean none.”

To his surprise, Agron realized he was now dangerously close to fighting back a smile. “And friends with what benefits, exactly?” Well, he had to ask; it was in the contract.

“Free Wi-Fi.”

The voice behind them made both men look over their shoulder.

Nasir was standing in the open doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. “So if you two are done fighting over me out here, there’s still stuff to do inside,” he said and then added with an even wryer smile, “Who won, by the way? I’m dying to know.”

Castus put up his hands. “That would be the gentleman in the red shirt,” he said. “You know me man, always a bridesmaid, never the bride. But here’s hoping, right?”

Without waiting for a reply, Castus left them both with a wink—and Nasir with a kiss on the cheek—and disappeared inside, while Nasir pushed himself off the wall and walked over.

“So...?”

Agron winced. “Yeah, sorry about earlier, that was...” He sighed. “Look, I overreacted, I know. But Castus is a sore spot, and I...” He took in another deep breath and scratched the back of his neck, trying to come up with a better answer. He couldn’t. “Anyway, I’m done with all that now. I promise.”

“Uh-huh.” Nasir smirked, not believing a word. “Somehow I’m imagining you fifty years from now still taking off in a strop with your walker every time Castus dares to mention how good the grey hair looks on me. Because, let’s face it, you are a bit of a drama queen.”

“I’m not a drama q—” Agron stopped. Oh hell, who was he kidding? “Not... all the time.”

Nasir stepped closer to pinch him—just enough to make Agron flinch and scowl. “Hey, I’m not saying that like it’s a bad thing.” He rubbed the offended arm and smiled. “If nothing else, at least it keeps life interesting.”

Agron stuck his tongue out at him, and Nasir grinned wider.

“But you’re done freaking out over Castus for today, yeah?” he continued, picking invisible lint off Agron’s shirt. “Because I do like you best out of all the boys in school, and you really should know that by now.”

Agron laughed and tucked some strands of hair behind Nasir’s ear. “Yeah, I guess I should,” he said, “And I do.”

“Good. Because that makes this whole living-the-rest-of-our-lives-together deal a lot easier.” Nasir then grabbed the front of Agron’s shirt and reached up to seal said deal with a kiss, when Agron’s phone buzzed with a text.

Agron pulled away grudgingly and then took out his phone, cursing under his breath.

“What?”

“I have to swing by the office,” he answered, “Apparently there’s some new forms I need to print out and fill. The ruling’s still pending.”

“I thought you took the day off. It’s your wedding day today, remember?” Because if Agron really thought he could just up and go like that and leave Nasir here alone with his mother and the flowers, he had another thing coming. “Can’t Spartacus do it?”

Agron shook his head. “They need my signature.” He locked the phone and shoved it back in his pocket before looking up again under his brow. “Look,” he started as hesitantly as he could, knowing he was still very much walking on eggshells from five minutes ago, “I really need to do this today or he’ll risk losing the asylum. I would never—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah... Always using the human rights card to win an argument, huh?” Nasir said with a mock scowl before sighing, “Fine. But you better be at town hall on time or who knows who I’ll marry.”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll be there.”


	4. Lionel Richie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, treating a panic attack with alcohol is actually not a good idea in real life (been there, done that, got the t-shirt.) /psa

 

Agron hit send on the last email and leaned back in his chair with a mostly satisfied sigh. The case was still as much of a crapshoot as ever, but at least the paperwork was done now and he could concentrate on other things for the time being. Like getting married.

Which brought his mind back to the wedding at hand and he groaned out loud, sliding down in the chair until his head hit the edge of the seat.

The thought of him actually having a real life wedding of his own—and not just a wedding, but one with the flowers and the cake and all the hoopla—it still made him feel weird somehow. Not bad weird necessarily, but still... weird. He could only imagine how his twenty-year-old self would react to the news. Probably by kicking his ass while giving him a lecture on oppression by assimilation.

But he had been an angry kid back then, whereas now he was...

He caught his reflection on the computer screen and shook his head at himself.

... The luckiest idiot in the whole fucking world.

And honestly, after this morning, Agron should be happy that he even had a wedding to get to at all. So maybe he really should just stop whining about flowers and cake and count his blessings instead. Wedding-related and otherwise.

So, ready to do just that, he closed the laptop and spun around in his chair, just as the front door to the office suddenly swung open, revealing his brother and Spartacus in the doorway. Both looking a little out of breath, not to mention a little overdressed for a Friday afternoon stroll about town.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you think we’re doing?” Duro answered, rolling the chair over the threshold. “You’re getting married in like five minutes and you’re not answering your phone. Someone had to come and get you.”

Agron grabbed his phone and frowned at the black screen. “The battery must’ve died,” he said, “But anyway, I don’t need to be at the town hall until two—”

“Exactly,” his brother interjected, making a show of tapping his watch. So Agron dutifully checked the time himself.

Twenty to two.

“Fuck.”

“That about covers it,” Duro said.

Agron looked at his watch for a moment longer, and then his eyes wandered further up his arm, over his chest and back down the rest of his body all the way to his feet.

“I can’t get married in jeans and a T-shirt.”

Not that he had been planning on wearing a tux either, but still a jacket would have been nice. But it was too late to go home and change now.

“Which is why we’re here,” Spartacus said, lifting up the suit bag that seemed to have magically appeared in his hand and throwing it over. “Come on, suit up.”

Duro nodded along. “Yeah, Cinderella, think of us as your fairy godfather...brothers. We’re here to fix everything.” He ignored Spartacus’ stare and quickly went on, “But hurry up, though, will you. Nasir will eat us alive if we’re late, and I’m too young and pretty to die yet.”

“Godfather-brothers?” Spartacus asked.

“Shut up, man. This is not my first language, okay? Let’s see you try to be funny in German.”

“You were trying to be funny?”

Agron swiftly ignored their bickering, already too busy with trying to toe off his shoes and to pull off his T-shirt at the same time without falling over.

Five minutes and a new shirt, jacket and pair of pants later, they made it to the elevator lobby and Agron pressed the button, but nothing was happening. So he pressed it again. And again. And again. It was a good thing he wasn’t a big believer in signs, because clearly this wasn’t a good one.

“It must be stuck on the fifth floor again,” Spartacus said. “We better take the stairs.”

Agron and Duro exchanged a look.

“Go on, it’s your wedding,” Duro said, “That thing’s gonna come down eventually and I’ll meet you all back at the restaurant. No biggie.”

Agron considered this. For three seconds.

“I’m only ever going to do this wedding nonsense once in my life, so you better be there,” he said walking over to his brother. “Spartacus, you take the chair. And Duro, I’ll take—”

“You’ll throw your back out.”

“And I’ve done this before, thank you. Ich schaff’s, okay?”

“Okay.” Duro held his hands up in concession and smirked. “That’s one mighty interesting glimpse into your home life, by the way.”

Agron rolled his eyes and then hoisted the other man up in a fireman’s carry with far less consideration than previously planned. And probably pulling a few muscles in the process, which would give him some explaining to do once wedding night rolled around. If they ever got that far, that is.

“Okay, a little less talking and a little more action, boys,” Spartacus shouted over his shoulder, already halfway down the stairs, “we have a wedding to get to.”

 

* * *

 

Agron had left the other two men behind at the front door and was now sprinting up the wide stone stairway three steps at a time. Once he made it to the landing he stopped long enough to catch his breath and check the time. Ten past two. Well fuck-a-doodle-doo. He was so screwed. So screwed.

Finally, three wrong turns, one lost tourist and one dead-end later, Agron found himself in the right place. Unfortunately for him, though, about fifteen minutes after the right time.

“Nasir, shit I’m sorry I—”

But Agron was quickly stopped on his feet by one immaculately manicured hand pressing against his chest.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up at this hour, Agron,” Nasir’s mother said icily. “What, is getting married to my son such an unimportant detail to you that it just slipped your mind? Good to know where your priorities lie.” She shook her head and tutted, “I can’t believe you, standing my poor baby up like this. And on your wedding day of all days.”

“But I didn’t—”

“We had a deal, Agron. No drama... remember?”

Agron stole a glance at the man still stubbornly facing the window on the other side of the otherwise empty corridor. It was a little hard to see with the sun behind him, but Agron could have sworn those familiar shoulders looked like they were starting to shake.

Nasir wasn’t actually crying, though, was he? Because Agron could take being shouted at from here to eternity; he could even take the cold treatment, but tears... he _really_ didn’t handle tears. At all. He’d probably just start bawling himself at the first sign of a wobbly lip.

So fuck-a-doodle-doo, indeed.

“Look, Layla...”

“I think for now that will be Mrs. Faris to you.”

“Okay, that’s enough, Mum.”

Finally, Nasir turned away from the window, and Agron held his breath as he waited for the verdict. But it soon became clear that Nasir hadn’t been crying. In fact, it looked almost like he was...

“Babe, what...” Agron blinked at him, confused.

“Gotcha.”

Agron blinked a little more and then looked at Nasir, then at his mother and then at Nasir again. They were both smiling now. And Agron was still blinking.

“So you’re not mad?” Wiley bastard.

Nasir shook his head and stepped closer. “A little irritated that you couldn’t bother to check the time? Hell yes. But mad? No.” He tugged gently at the lapels of Agron’s jacket and straightened out the collar of his shirt. Then he smoothed down the tufts of hair sticking out on top of his head. “Unless you tried to bail on me on purpose, of course. Then we would have a problem.”

“Never. You know that.”

“Yes, I do.” He peered over Agron’s shoulder at the empty corridor behind him. “So where are the rest of the Musketeers? I thought they’d be coming in with you.”

“I think they’re hiding downstairs—scared you might kill them for not getting me here on time.”

“As they should be.”

“Okay, boys,” Nasir’s mother cut in, patting Agron’s shoulder, “You’ve got thirty minutes. I’ll go and start corralling the others back in, shall I?”

Agron watched after her retreating back and then he looked back at Nasir, frowning again. “Thirty minutes to what?”

“The ceremony, you silly goose.”

“But I thought they were booked solid all through May,” Agron said, “And that our slot was definitely the only free one they had in weeks.”

“What can I say? Apparently you’re marrying a very persuasive man.”

“Apparently.” Agron’s laugh was about eighty-two percent relief, and he took Nasir’s chin in his hand and leaned in, but Nasir stopped him finger to lips at the last second.

“Oh and if anyone asks, your nan broke her leg and you’ve been in the hospital all day and all night. So try and remember that, okay?”

“The hospital... in Frankfurt? The same Frankfurt that’s five-hundred kilometers from here?”

Nasir shrugged. “You’re a fast driver.”

“But we don’t have a car.”

“So you rented one. Or flew in.” Nasir sighed and rolled his eyes, “Jesus, I forget you’re a lawyer sometimes. Any more questions?”

“Well...” Agron made a show of thinking it over. “I’m still getting married to you, right?”

“Yes. Heaven help me.”

“Then that’s all I need to know.”

 

* * *

 

Duro shuffled the note cards in his hand and cleared his throat. “Okay, everyone, let’s get on with the program,” he said, clinking his dessert spoon against his glass to get their attention. About a third of the chairs around the table were still empty, so he waited patiently as people slowly started drifting back to their seats.

“First of all, I hope you all forgive me for not getting up for this.” He got a sea of uneasy stares and a few hesitant laughs in response and gave them all a grin in return. “Sorry, bad joke. Moving on...” He reached for his glass of water and took a sip to hide his smile.

“Anyway, as the official double-duty best man, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you all for coming and start by saying how extremely honored I am to be here tonight. Not just for my brother but for two of my best friends.” He stopped again and scratched his neck. “By which I mean of course that I also consider Agron one of my best friends, not that Agron is marrying two of my best friends.” This time, the laughs he received were far less hesitant and he chuckled too. “Yeah, let’s face it—and Nasir, you know it’s true—we’re all a little surprised my brother even found one person crazy enough to marry him.” He paused for laughs again and looked around the table, searching for one specific reaction. Then he frowned and looked around him a second time.

But try as he might he couldn’t find what he was looking for; there was definitely something missing.

Or more specifically, someone.

He put his glass and his notes down and sighed. “Okay, anybody here have any idea where Agron might be hiding?”

 

* * *

 

The steps down to the cellar were still steep and uneven and the lighting was still as dim as it had been an hour ago. Nasir hugged the cracked concrete wall for support as he and Spartacus followed Naevia down the narrow flight of stairs, until they all came to a stop in the store room in front of the heavy-looking metal door that led to the second storage.

It was eerily quiet.

Nasir looked at Spartacus and received a matching look in return. “You don’t think they’ve killed each other yet, do you?” he asked. Half-joking.

“Only one way to find out,” Naevia replied as she finally pushed the long-sought-after extra key in the lock and pulled the handle.

The door opened with a tired creak.

“Well would you look at that, if it isn’t the cavalry,” Crixus said, squinting a little at the sudden assault of light, nudging the man sitting on the floor next to him. “We’re saved, Agron.”

Beside him Agron blinked up at them and once his eyes found Nasir, his face split into a grin. “Baby!”

“Are you okay?”

Agron gave him another lopsided smile and finally scrambled back on his feet. It took him a minute to find his balance, though, and even after he did, he kept swaying a little, grabbing Nasir for support.

“Yeah, ‘m okay, baby. Now that you’re ‘ere. Absolutely marvelous, even.”

“Are you _drunk_?”

Agron did his best to muster up the proper amount of indignation at the question. He wasn’t drunk as much as he was... well... “Maybe.”

So Nasir shot the man a look along with a silent question. He could count the times he had ever seen Agron drunk with one hand; the man just didn’t like to give up his hard-learned control all that easily. Well, except in some very specific circumstances, but then those circumstances had less to do with being under the influence and more with being tied up to the bedframe.

“It’s all his fault,” Agron said solemnly pointing a finger at Crixus who was picking their jackets from the floor and dusting them off before handing the other one over to Agron.

“Sorry,” Crixus said to Nasir. “But I had to do something, he was freaking out in there.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Nasir ignored Agron’s protests and turned his full attention on Crixus instead. Agron, god love him, didn’t do anything in half-measures, and that included his phobias. “Was it bad?”

“I wasn’t freaking out,” Agron repeated behind him.

“I know, baby, I know,” Nasir said, rubbing Agron’s shoulder in a vaguely appeasing manner before turning back to Crixus again. “How bad?”

“Pretty bad,” he said.

Agron huffed while simultaneously trying to put his jacket on the wrong way round. So Nasir grabbed the jacket from him and Agron huffed again.

“At least I didn’t kiss anyone.”

Crixus rolled his eyes. “And thank god for that small miracle.”

“Says the guy who was giving me a back rub half an hour ago.”

And just like in a tennis match, Nasir, Naevia and Spartacus turned their heads in unison from Agron straight back to Crixus again.

“Back rub?” Naevia asked, amused, “You’ve never given _me_ a back rub.”

“Start hyperventilating on me and I just might.”

“I wasn’t hyper–” Agron stopped and sighed. The adrenalin was wearing off and it together with the alcohol in his system was making his eyelids heavy. He realized he was fighting a yawn. “Whatever,” he muttered, looping his arms around his husband and then finding himself smiling at the thought. So he leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “And I’m sorry for disappearing, babe. But at least there was a happy ending.”

Silence fell and suddenly all eyes were on Agron again. Spartacus cleared his throat and beside him Crixus started cursing something in French under his breath.

“So... a back rub with a happy ending, huh?” Naevia teased. “Interesting.”

Agron groaned. “Not like _that_.” He gave them all a disgusted glare. “And stop imagining it! Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you all?” Somehow he was both too drunk for this conversation and not drunk enough. “Didn’t mean it like that, man,” he mumbled looking carefully at Crixus who was in the middle of rolling down his shirt sleeves.

“I guess at this point in life I should just take what I can get in that department,” the man replied evenly as he finally pulled on his jacket. “Though, have to say, when I’ve imagined getting locked in a pantry with a tall blonde for a night, this wasn’t exactly the scenario I had in mind.”

Agron couldn’t help but snort, though was quick to blame it on the alcohol, while Naevia’s eyebrow only kept arching higher on her forehead.

“And what exactly did you have in mind, dear? Or should I ask _who_?”

And just like that Crixus’ face went pale and his easy smile was quickly replaced with a pained one. “You in a wig?”

“Good answer.” Naevia hooked her arm through her husband’s, tugging him towards the stairs. “Come on then, Magic Hands. I saved some cake for you, and your daughter’s still waiting for that dance you promised.”

They disappeared up the stairs and Spartacus followed, after a last pat on Agron’s shoulder and a quick “you’ll be fine getting him upstairs, won’t you?” look in Nasir’s direction.

“Okay, I think it’s time we go and find something other than alcohol to put in you,” Nasir said then, peeling Agron’s arm from around his waist, “How does that sound?”

 _Better_ , Agron thought, _much better_. He was in dire need of some brain bleach right now.

So he tried on his best leer. “And what would that something be exactly?”

Nasir bit his lip hard as he watched the other man try to wiggle his eyebrows in a sexy way but somehow only ending up looking constipated. “Food.”

“Oh.”

“And maybe some coffee.” He reached up to kiss away the pout. “Baby, you’re five minutes away from being pissed off your face. And I’m a good guy, so I’m not going to take advantage.”

And just like that Agron was smiling again. They could revisit the discussion about adequate consent later, but in the meantime, maybe some food wouldn’t actually be such a bad idea after all. Not to mention fresh air.

“So did you save any cake for me, Mr. Good Guy?”

“Of course,” Nasir answered, “The best piece.”

Agron flashed him another sloppy grin and Nasir half smiled, half sighed at him in return. Heaven help him, indeed.

He shook out Agron’s wrinkled jacket and started putting it on him, one sleeve at a time.

“So, tell me, what did I miss?”

“Well there was Duro’s speech,” Nasir said, “But I’m sure he’ll be happy to rerun it by you if you asked. It was...entertaining.” He tried his best not to make his grin too obvious.

“Yeah I bet,” Agron growled. “All I will say is that if he as much as mentioned the story with Adi and the bucket and Dad’s car, I will kill him.” Nasir bit his lip and looked away and Agron made a mental note to kill his brother later. “Anything else?”

“Well speaking of dads... Mine’s been sulking ever since Mum declared that your dad is the best dancer she’s ever danced with. I’m pretty sure they’ll be dueling it out at sundown.”

Agron chuckled. And then brushed a thumb along Nasir’s jaw. “And what about you, gorgeous? Have you been dancing?”

“Nah... Been a little busy, what with my husband being locked up in the cellar all night and all.” He smoothed down the front of Agron’s jacket and looked up with a smile. “But thankfully that’s over now. So come on, there’s a piece of cake out there waiting with your name on it.”

But he barely had taken one step towards the stairs when the other man grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Wait, I need to...” Agron’s voice faded away and he scratched the back of his neck before starting over. “Look, I really am sorry,” he said, trying his best not to slur the words this time. “And I know it doesn’t help all that much now, but I am. So sorry.”

Nasir frowned. “For what?”

“For ruining everything.”

“You didn’t—”

“But I did, though. First I don’t show up at all, then I get stuck in the cellar for half the night and just end up getting drunk with Crixus.” He rubbed his face. “And you never even got to dance.”

“And since when have we ever dan—” Nasir stopped and sighed at the kicked-puppy-look he was getting and then took Agron’s hand in his and slipped his arm around the man to pull him closer. “Come on then, you big baby.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

The height difference was making things a little difficult, as was Agron’s less than sterling balance, but Nasir started to move his feet anyway, just side to side in a gentle swaying motion. He hummed softly to give them something to move to. And then finally Agron clued in and began to follow his lead. Without question, as if dancing without music in an empty restaurant storage room was nothing out of the ordinary. Just another Friday night.

“So what are we dancing to?” he asked.

Nasir considered this and then said, in all seriousness, “Lionel Richie.”

“Okay... Um, any particular reason we’re picking songs from Dad’s karaoke list?”

Nasir didn’t answer for a moment. Then he finally looked up again and couldn’t help but chuckle at the look on Agron’s face.

“You remember our first date, right?”

“The one you were supposed to be on with Castus?”

“Exactly,” Nasir answered and smoothed the line between Agron’s brows with his thumb. “So what do you remember?”

“That I might have been a little nervous,” Agron answered, cringing.

“You were adorable,” Nasir said and then quickly course-corrected off of the man’s glare, “By which I of course mean sexy and dangerous and brooding.”

“I know, I know,” Agron sighed against Nasir’s cheek. Well at least the memory of that night—and the embarrassment—was starting to clear his head. A little. “It was a bit of a rubbish date, wasn’t it? I kept going on and on about work and then invited you back to mine only to talk more until I finally bored you to sleep.” He huffed. “Not exactly sexy and dangerous, was it? God knows why you ever agreed to go out with me again.”

To his surprise, Nasir laughed at that and shook his head.

“Honey, it was the best date. I won’t hear a bad word about it.”

“Huh?”

“Like when they finally kicked us out of the café an hour after closing time and how we just kept talking anyway and ended up sitting in that McDonald’s until the sun came up. And when you asked me up for more coffee and then actually made me coffee. And called in sick just so I could sleep in.”

“Yeah but—”

“And you still had the price tag attached to your shirt and wore way too much cologne and I think I probably was already in love with you before seven a.m. whether I knew it or not.”

By then they had already come to a complete stop under the fluorescent lights that were blinking some secret message in Morse code. “And things did get sexy eventually,” Nasir added, with a lift of his eyebrow, “Very sexy, in fact. If memory serves.”

Yes, Agron did remember that part too. And he grinned at the memory. But then he remembered something else. “Wait, what has any of this to do with Lionel Richie, though?”

“He was playing on a loop in the café that night,” Nasir answered, “Was doing my head in.”

Agron burst out laughing and held on a little tighter. “Sounds about right for us then,” he said, but then added, “Still if anyone asks, I’m gonna say it’s Joy Division.”

“Love Will Tear Us Apart, huh? Wow, that’s romantic. And who’s asking? We’re here alone.”

“Oh well, in that case, Celine Dion.”

Nasir stuck out his tongue. Agron kissed him.

And then he pulled away, frowning again.

“You know, somehow I’d forgotten how short you really are.”

“Bloody hell, Agron.”

“What?”

“I know you’re drunk, baby, but come on, try and think before you speak.”

“Well you are short, though.”

“Shorter. There’s a difference.”

“Look, all I’m saying is, this would be easier if you were standing on a box. Or maybe we should get you on some stilts.”

“The only thing we’re getting is a divorce if you keep that up.”

“Never, babe.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Try and make me, big boy.”


	5. Luna De Miel

Something cold poked Nasir in the shin and he started awake, not remembering having dozed off in the first place. When he opened his eyes, he was looking up at Agron who was standing at the foot of the deck chair, dripping wet with water. Partly on Nasir's towel, but mostly on Nasir.

“Hey!” Nasir sat up and scooted away, blinking at the sun. “If I wanted to go for a swim, I’d go for a swim. You don’t need to bring the pool back with you.”

“Sorry.” 

Agron smirked at him, not looking the least bit sorry, and then very deliberately reached one wet arm over Nasir’s bare legs to grab a towel for himself. Nasir kicked him in the shin, but it only made Agron grin wider as he plopped himself down on the lounger next to him, his wet thigh pressing against Nasir's sun-warmed one.

“So I think I’m finally starting to understand the point to this whole wedding business,” he said rubbing the towel into his hair.

Nasir raised an eyebrow. “And let me guess, would that point be… the honeymoon?”

“Mm-hmm.” Agron dropped the wet towel at his feet and stretched out his legs with a satisfied sigh. “Though I have to say a week is definitely not long enough. I mean it’s called a honey _moon_ for a reason, right?”

Nasir smiled to himself. He would like to see Agron try and survive more than twelve days without working and not go stir crazy.

“Well be that as it may,” he said evenly, “it was still nice of your dad to arrange all this for us. Even if it’s just for a week.”

Agron closed his eyes and leaned back on his elbows, soaking up the sun. “Nice or making up for an emotionally distant childhood. One or the other.”

“Agron...”

“Fine,” he grunted, “It was nice of him. But come on, you must admit it’s also more than a little weird. I mean, to begin with, how would he even put this thing together?”

“He’s a functioning adult, Agron. And booking a trip to Spain is hardly rocket science.” Nasir shrugged, adding, “If I had to guess, I’d say he just googled gay hotels in Málaga and then liked the look of this one.”

“My point exactly. How is that not weird to you? You've met my dad, right?”

So Nasir threw him a sidelong look. “You’re not fifteen anymore, so maybe it’s time you started cutting him some slack. At least he’s trying now. And honestly, for a single dad of three, and especially you three, I think he’s done all right. You guys can be a little... challenging at the best of times.”

“We’re not challenging, we’re special.”

Nasir snorted. “Sure you are baby.”

Agron decided then to simultaneously both ignore the completely unnecessary besmirching of his character and change the subject.

“So are you going to be taking that T-shirt off any time soon? You know that 'clothing-optional' usually means _less_ clothing , right?”

“And do you have to ask that every time I step outside?” Nasir sighed, while his hand instinctively went to scratch at the ancient scar running right under his ribs.

Agron could tell him a thousand times—and to be fair he probably had—that it looked fine and scars were sexy and “if you want, I can show you just how sexy,” but Agron being Agron didn't really help Nasir with the underlying problem. Especially since “sexy” was far from being the only issue here. 

If you looked like a rugby player, people saw a scar and asked “dude, what did you do to get that?” but when you didn't, the question automatically turned into “dude, what  _happened_ to you?” And even if Nasir's scar was the result of nothing more traumatic than a bike accident ten years ago, that still didn't mean he was eager to see  _that_ look on people's faces any more than was absolutely necessary.

And it had to be said—although this still definitely wasn't about being sexy—that it didn’t help either that this morning, for whatever fluke of nature, half the people in this hotel looked like they'd walked out to the pool straight from an Andrew Christian photo shoot. Not that Nasir was complaining about the view, but... Some insecurities were insecurities for a reason.

Meanwhile, next to Nasir on the sun lounger, one wannabe underwear model was now feigning a frown at him.

“Well excuse me for wanting to ogle a little,” Agron said with an exaggerated sigh, “That's kind of the whole point of marrying a younger guy, you know. Well that and the youthful stamina, I mean.”

“And you’ve seen me naked plenty,” Nasir said, ignoring the tease, “A morning off won’t hurt you.”

“Fine. Of course you should only do whatever you feel comfortable doing. It’s your body.” Agron closed his eyes, smiling to himself.

“You’re picturing me naked right now, aren’t you?”

“Maybe you, maybe that guy in the green speedos,” Agron answered and then opened one of his eyes and peered back at Nasir, “Though in the spirit of fairness, you now have my permission to imagine me naked any time you want. Starting whenever.”

Nasir let his eyes wander the length of the man’s body, down to his feet and then up again. “You know, those budgie smugglers of yours are a bit on the snug side. There’s really not that much left to imagine.”

“I think the word you were looking for was _emu_ smugglers, babe,” Agron replied and stretched himself taller on the towel. Eyes closed. Hands laced behind his head. “And they’re not snug, they’re a perfect fit. Have had nothing but compliments all week.”

“I bet.” The Swedish foursome they'd ended up sharing a barbecue with yesterday had been especially generous with their compliments this morning. Bearded Scandinavian bastards. 

Nasir only realized he might have said the last part out loud when he heard Agron chuckling beside him.

“Not too bad for an old married guy, huh? And don’t be jealous. I mean, I’m sure you have a nice body too. Hiding under all those clothes...”

Nasir had half a mind to grab the wet towel and throw it in the other man’s stupid face, but he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. “Happy now?”

Agron quickly hid his surprise and the sudden urge to pump his fist in the air under another smile.

“I have a good imagination but the real thing is always better,” he said, rolling to his side and reaching out his hand to poke. “And you’re even sexier when you’re angry like this.”

Nasir swatted the hand away with a heavy sigh. “And you’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist?”

“Save your lines to your little fan club over there.”

“Look, it’s all to do with this ring, I promise you,” Agron said then, wiggling his left hand in the air. “I swear it’s like catnip to some people. They just want what they can’t have.” He rolled back on his back again and sighed. “Maybe what I need is a T-shirt that says ‘property of Nasir Faris, if found return to owner immediately—no funny business’. Or maybe I should just get that tattooed across my chest. And my ass too, just to be on the safe side... What?”

“Nothing,” Nasir said, trying to shake the stupid smile off his face. “Just happy to be on holiday.”

“Well, speaking of this holiday of ours,” Agron asked as he resumed his stretched-out position on the chair, “have you thought any more about what you would like to do the rest of the week. Hang-gliding? Rock climbing? Diving?” He threw Nasir a wicked look. “Or maybe we should just get down to the beach one day and rent a pedalo, huh?”

“Definitely no to pedalos,” Nasir said, wincing at the thought. He was still having flashbacks to Lanzarote two years ago. “How about surfing? It’s a little too close to June, but there might still be a few decent waves out there. And we could drive to Tarifa and make a proper mini-trip out of it anyway, even if there’s no swell. Should be fun.”

Agron beamed back at him for a second, but then he had to ask, “And you’re sure-sure? Because I’m starting to fear we always end up spending our holidays doing what I want to do.” He paused and then corrected himself, “Okay, sure, yesterday and this whole spend-the-morning-at-the-pool idea was all you but—”

“Whoa, hold on,” Nasir interrupted, “You didn’t want to go to the pool? I thought you wanted to go for a swim. That’s the whole reason we’re out here at stupid o'clock, right?”

“No. _You_ wanted to come out here. I mean why else...” Agron’s voice trailed off. His eyebrows went up and he started laughing. “Really? What part of ‘let’s just stay in bed instead for a few more hours’ did you think I’d say no to?”

Nasir laughed, too. “I don’t know. You were gone when I woke up. I thought—”

“I just went to the bathroom, and when I come back, you’re already getting ready. So I just decided I’d have to wait and maybe talk you into taking a nap after lunch. Against the wall if necessary. Or in the shower.” As Agron spoke he got to his feet and threw his towel around his neck. And then he held out his hand. “So...”

“I definitely feel a siesta coming on,” Nasir said as he took Agron’s hand and let him pull him back up on his feet. 

“Yeah?”

“We’ve already been up for like almost two hours, haven’t we? A quick nap against the wall sounds about perfect right now.”

“Might need a proper shower first, though,” Agron said running his fingers through his wet hair.

“Well there are walls in the shower too, if I remember correctly...”

Agron answered him with a big smile and then took Nasir’s face with both hands and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. “And this is why I married you,” he said, “You and your big thinking brain.”

“My big brain, huh?” Grinning back, Nasir pushed the other man off of him, hard enough to make him stumble a little on his feet. Then he grabbed his shirt and his towel and started down the patio and towards the stairs to the second floor. Soon enough, though, he could hear jogging footsteps behind him on the terracotta tiles and then feel an arm wrapping around his bare shoulders.

Agron leaned in, lips by Nasir’s ear. “Race you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> luna de miel = honeymoon


End file.
